


Nerves and...You Know

by someonestolemyshoes



Series: Twitch [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Grinding, Hand Jobs, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Rimming, Smut, Third Year AU, Third Year KageHina, a bit of humour but I'm not fucking funny, i feel like i am missing important things but, lotsa kissing, urrrm excessive dick talk, where do i even begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hinata has spent a very significant portion of his life being nervous. Nervous about school, about volleyball, about the twitch of his arms and the squeak of his voice and the very general, very real lack of control he has over his entire body but this…this is something else completely.</p>
<p>Thing is, Kageyama wants to have sex." </p>
<p>Or: Hinata struggles with his tics to finally, finally do the do with Kageyama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerves and...You Know

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twitch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103802) by [CheekyBrunette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyBrunette/pseuds/CheekyBrunette). 



> Okay so my buddy CheekyBrunette (@ thecheekybrunette on tumblr dot com) is writing this really really amazing Kagehina fic where Hinata suffers with Tourette's and all the difficulties that come with it and it's honestly such an interesting concept to me that I wanted to add something to it myself. And I am the worst, so it had to involve a little lowkey smut (nervous sweating at the tags). 
> 
> But yeah basically please check out that fic too, it's really informative and super cute and the kagehina is great and there is still one chapter to wait for!!

Hinata has spent a very significant portion of his life being nervous. Nervous about school, about volleyball, about the twitch of his arms and the squeak of his voice and the very general, very _real_ lack of control he has over his entire body but _this_ …this is something else completely.

Thing is, Kageyama wants to have sex.

It sounds awful, saying it like that; he and Kageyama want to have sex, is what he means. They’ve kissed _lots_ , so many times Hinata can’t even keep count anymore (he was into the double digits, last time he checked, but it’s been so long since then that he bets they must have doubled, maybe _tripled_ the number by now), and done some touching over clothes that makes Hinata’s cheeks hot to even think about and honest truth, they’re both getting a little impatient for something more. He’s sick – they both are, probably – of going home with a tent in his shorts, hiding his groin with the hem of his jacket while his brain works overtime to keep his arm still enough to keep him covered before he can hole up in his bedroom, away from knowing eyes and prying questions.

He says _Kageyama_ because Kageyama is the one to bring it up. He does so over breakfast – cereal, some Western make that sits soggy in the bowl and stains his milk brown – with his eyes on the table, cheeks red as cherries and his hand wrapped around his spoon so tight Hinata thinks he might bend it.

“I think we should…you know,” is what he says. Nothing else. The words slip out all muffled and heavy and Hinata can _hear_ his blush around the vowels.

“No,” he says, hiccups around a mouthful of Coco Pops and sucks one straight down his throat. Something that sounds like _dumbass_ slips between Kageyama’s teeth as he bats a palm between Hinata’s shoulder blades and when Hinata looks up, Kageyama’s face is pulled in this deep, sullen frown that reminds him so much of their first year that he almost laughs.

“Not no like _no,_ idiot,” Hinata says. “No like, I don’t know what you mean.”

When he finally says it – the real, actual word ‘sex’ – it’s so low under his breath that Hinata almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

His heart does a weird, horrible thing in his chest – bounces, leaps right up into his throat and chokes him along with his Coco Pops and the balls of his feet start bouncing against the foot bar and his lids blink closed once, twice, tug at his face hard enough to make eyes water.

“Huh?” He says (squawks), and he follows it up with a purse of his lips and a high hum that has Kageyama’s fingers flying to his hair before his own can. His nails rake over his scalp, smooth through thick, messy strands and Hinata sinks his own fingers into the hem of his jumper and gives himself a minute to breathe.

“Thanks,” he says, then slaps Kageyama’s wrist away from his head and gives him an indignant, accusing kind of glare. “You can’t just _say_ that kind of thing, Kageyama!”

There’s a moment where Kageyama looks rightly scolded, and then he plants a fist on top of Hinata’s head and digs his knuckles into his scalp until Hinata shrivels in his chair.

“Dumbass.” This time it’s loud and clear and Hinata peeks up at him through one eye, scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue.

Kageyama doesn’t say anything more on it, and instead they clean up their bowls and grab their bags, racing out the front door before their breakfast has time to settle.

* * *

The next time Kageyama brings it up, they’re already in bed. The duvet sits heavy over Hinata's back and Kageyama’s chest presses to his front, each breath shaky and heaving against his own and their mouths are running open and sloppy and Kageyama says it with Hinata’s bottom lip caught between his teeth.

They’re already hard, both of them; Hinata’s been rutting himself against Kageyama’s stomach for the better part of five minutes now, slow and steady and, hopefully, subtly enough to not get caught and when they stop kissing, when Hinata shifts his head up to look Kageyama in the face and slides his groin over Kageyama’s abdomen he feels the tight clench of muscles and the twitch of Kageyama’s hips beneath him.

“Not right _now_ ,” Kageyama says. Even in the dark Hinata can see his blush, watches it bloom red and raw over his cheeks while his own head jerks twice to one side, fast and sharp enough to make his neck ache. He reaches up a hand to rub at it, sits himself upright on Kageyama’s lap and stares down at him. “Not,” Kageyama continues, clears his throat and rubs the back of one hand over his mouth, “not unless you _want_ to.”

Hinata…kind of _does_ want to, somewhere in his gut. It jumps and burns and winds into a hot, tight ball in his stomach, ticks up his spine and tingles in his fingers and toes but he’s also so horrible, painful _nervous_. So nervous he lets out a shout, barking loud in the night silence.

“Maybe not…” he waves a hand between them, jerks his head again and beats down the spasm in the back of his throat that wants him to hum over his words. “Not all the way, maybe.”

Kageyama cards a hand up the back of Hinata’s hair, grips a little between his fingers and tugs just enough to make the corners of Hinata’s mouth curl up in a smile. It’s one of the tics he’s lost, the hair pulling, unless he’s real _super_ nervous but when it’s Kageyama doing it, when it’s Kageyama’s nails on his crown, Kageyama’s fist teasing at his locks, it’s almost soothing.

The hum sitting in the back of his mouth battles it’s way out.

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, draws mindless patterns over Hinata’s scalp when his eyes pull wide and blink shut hard.  

Hinata starts it, boldly enough. He shuffles his hips back until they’re settled right over Kageyama’s – he’s _really_ hard, pressing right up between Hinata’s legs – and he urges Kageyama to sit up with him with the fingers of one hand splayed over his neck and the other clawing at his shirt.

He has to prop himself on his knees a little to kiss Kageyama comfortably on the mouth but even then, Kageyama is still _touching_ him, hard and hot even through the fabric of his pants and there’s a thrill to it, but there’s also something that makes his breathing pick up in a way that is familiar and unpleasant and he gives himself away with a loud squeak against Kageyama’s lips.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Hinata nods because Kageyama is hard and he is hard and he wants this, he does, he really, _really_ does but he’s just so _nervous_.

“Just –mmmmmm- plain tics,” he lies, cringes, and cranes his face up to kiss Kageyama again.

He’s doing well, he thinks, better than he’d expected and he thinks he can maybe just do this. It feels good, the way Kageyama’s hips keep jumping up into his and there are these tiny, quiet moans slinking up Kageyama’s throat and spilling into Hinata’s mouth and it makes him feel a new, weird kind of powerful, but then Kageyama’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of his shorts and Hinata’s arms flap out hard enough to knock Kageyama’s away from him.

“Sorry,” he says, immediately, sucks in a few deep breaths and his nose scrunches over and over until his face starts to ache. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t really register Kageyama moving him off of his lap or Kageyama sliding out of the bed, doesn’t hear the glass of water hitting the bedside table and he doesn’t remember Kageyama wrapping him in blankets but when his breathing finally slows, when he stops squeaking and hiccupping and yelling all at once he is propped against Kageyama’s pillows and Kageyama is kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” Kageyama says, and Hinata shakes his head.

“N –mmmm- no. I’m really sorry.”

“Dumbass.” The insult always sounds warm, coming from Kageyama, and Hinata watches him crawl under the covers and rearrange a pillow behind his head. “Stop apologising.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not at all like Kageyama to apologise, not even a little bit and not in so many words, not even when he’s really done something that he should be apologising for and Hinata is so surprised that for a minute, he doesn’t even say anything.

“Why?” Kageyama isn’t looking at him. Instead, his eyes are staring up, up, up at the ceiling – through it, almost, with the intensity of his stare, and he still doesn’t look over at him when he opens his mouth to answer.

“Should’ve asked,” he says. “Instead of just…touching you, like that.”

It takes an awful lot of convincing before Kageyama stops looking like he wants to chop his own hands off. He’s overly cautious, after that, asking and asking again before kissing Hinata goodnight, and when Hinata wakes in the morning Kageyama asks him if it’s okay before he wraps a sleepy arm around his waist and pulls him right against his chest.

* * *

The second time they try anything, it’s Hinata’s express decision.

They’ve been studying – always, forever _studying_ – and Hinata’s brain feels like jelly from the effort of reading and writing and figuring things out and trying to stop his arms beating at his sides long enough to hold his pencil to his paper. He’s been eeking and humming and coughing out thinly veiled shouts for nearing two hours now which must be annoying for Kageyama but he’s hiding it well, face buried so deep in his maths book Hinata can see the tip of his nose skimming the pages.

Kageyama’s got good hands. Long, thin fingers with callouses right at the tips, and they’re always a little rough even though Kageyama moisturizes them twice every day. He’s got good arms, too; tan skin and muscle wrapped around bone and the place where they meet his shoulders is broad and smooth and Hinata watches the strap of Kageyama’s tank play around the muscle. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that Kageyama’s got good just about _everything_. Everything Hinata has seen, that is; everything he’s touched.

“I wanna see it,” he says, blurts the words before he has time to stop himself and when Kageyama looks up he tacks on, “your dick,” like he needed to embarrass himself any further. Kageyama’s face goes fire truck read in seconds, skims up his chest, his neck, over his jaw and settles in his cheeks like filling up a big, Kageyama-shaped glass.

“What the hell,” he starts, voice picking up volume with each word and Hinata hushes him with a squeak and a jerk of his head.

“I was just thinking,” he says, “about how good you look all the time and like, you know you’ve got good hands? And good arms, and your back and your legs, they’re all really, _really_ good, but I haven’t really had a chance to look at… _that_.”

Kageyama isn’t taking the compliments well at _all_. His lips are wobbling in this big long line and his face is getting impossibly redder and there’s steam coming out of his ears, almost, and he shuts Hinata up with a shake of his head and the slap of his hands over his own eyes.

“Enough,” he says, scrubs at his face and looks Hinata in the eye. His gaze flicks to the bedroom door and back again. “Mum’s downstairs.”

Hinata shrugs his shoulders.

“I just wanna look.”

It takes a lot more bargaining than Hinata had expected, including his own, weak promise to return the favour – if that’s what you’d call it – before Kageyama finally relents.

Kageyama has this awful, mortified kind of look on his face when he wiggles his trousers over his hips, sets his back against the bed and props his forearm over his eyes so he can’t see Hinata staring right at his dick. Because that’s what he’s doing; he’s kneeling so close he can feel the brush of Kageyama’s knees against his, and he’s leaning his face down near enough that his breath fans over the coarse hair at Kageyama’s crotch.

It looks…like every other dick Hinata has seen. Namely, his own, as well as the few he’s spied on websites he’s not supposed to look at while the house is empty and the computer is free. The hair is darker than his and less…unruly, is the best way to describe it, and he looks from Kageyama’s face to his crotch and back again.

“Do you shave it?”

Kageyama gropes out a hand to shove Hinata’s face away from him without moving his other arm from over his eyes. Hinata grapples with Kageyama’s wrist for a while before he manages to link their fingers, setting them down against Kageyama’s thigh and leaning in to look again.

“Yours still has the skin on,” he says, surprised, like it’s something Kageyama might not have realised for himself and this time Kageyama lifts his head to look at him.

“Yours doesn’t?” He asks, and Hinata shakes his head.

The more Hinata looks at it, the more he wonders about it. There are questions he sort of wants to ask; how do you keep it clean? What do you do with it when you’re…you know, but he isn’t really sure how he’s supposed to ask them.

They slip out of his mouth before he can stop himself. _Again_.

“Oi!” Kageyama hisses, and Hinata squeaks three times in quick succession, knees bouncing where he’s kneeling. Kageyama gives him an _almost_ apologetic look (it's more of a scowl, really), and relaxes some of the tension in his spine.

“You just…pull it back.”

Hinata feels…vaguely appalled, honestly, and it must show on his face because Kageyama rolls his eyes and the fingers clutched in Hinata’s hand tighten their grip.

“Does it not hurt?”

“Only if you do it wrong.”

Hinata takes a moment to absorb the new information. It makes his palms sweat, thinking about touching Kageyama now. Knowing that doing something so _simple_ , touching him like he would touch himself, could hurt him if Hinata does it wrong sends a hot, angry bolt of anxiety streaking right through his stomach.

“Can you show me?”

Kageyama looks, for a moment, like Hinata might have grown an extra head. Hinata’s nose twitches, eyes blink tight and fast and Kageyama untangles their hands and reaches for himself without meeting Hinata’s eyes.

It looks _ridiculous_ , all soft and floppy and the head looks a weird shape and for a moment Hinata wonders if maybe there’s something _wrong_ with Kageyama, because he’s never seen a dick that looks like that on any of the websites but the more he looks at it, the more he realises it’s just the foreskin making everything look a little different to his.

“Like that,” Kageyama says, teeth gritted so hard his words don’t sound right. “Can I put my pants back now?”

Hinata doesn’t answer, just leans himself all the way down until he’s eye to eye with Kageyama’s penis. Something about the proximity makes Kageyama’s thighs tense and Hinata breathes a little heavy, lets his fingers curl around Kageyama’s leg to brace his weight as he watches Kageyama touch himself.

“Stop breathing on it,” Kageyama says – whines, almost, like a petulant child – and Hinata is about to ask why when he realises, with something like pride squirming in his stomach, that Kageyama’s dick is getting hard.

“Show me again.” His voice comes out all breathy, low and hoarse and this small, near imperceptible moan slips past Kageyama’s lips. Hinata looks up at his face, watches Kageyama’s eyes flit to the door again, and this time he curls his whole fist around himself and gives a few drawn, slow pumps.

He’s hard in seconds, it feels like, the pink head flush and shiny where Kageyama is sliding his foreskin back. His hips lift off the floor while his fist slips down to his groin and Hinata’s lips fall apart, his breath filtering over them in hot, dry pants.

Kageyama yelps when one of Hinata’s fingers trails a line up the underside of him, from base to tip, barely tickling the flesh but Hinata wonders if it feels as electric to Kageyama as it does to him.

“Can I try?” He says, and Kageyama nods blankly, lets his hand fall away and lets Hinata’s replace it.

He’s a little wet from where Kageyama has spread his own fluid over himself but it dries quickly enough under the slip of Hinata’s palm and when it does he pauses, lost, and his lungs tighten painfully behind his ribs.

“Spit.”

Right, of course, he thinks. Of course he should use spit – he’s done it to himself a million times over and he feels stupid for not thinking of it then, and when he ducks his head to spit into his own palm he yelps instead, and then he squeaks, and he hums in a few long lines before he manages to gather enough saliva to spread over Kageyama.

“Not too hard,” Kageyama says the minute Hinata’s fist slides down him, and the sudden sense of horror at knowing that he could hurt Kageyama bubbles back into his head. Hinata’s elbow jerks out and his thighs jump so hard they throb. He sucks in a couple of breaths.

It doesn’t get any easier. He tries the things he does to himself, tries to run his thumb over the head at the top of each upstroke but the shifting skin makes it difficult and more than once Hinata clumsily catches the edge of his thumb in Kageyama’s slit.

He stops with a gasping, feeble breath and pushes himself back, away from Kageyama’s body, all the way to the other side of the pile of books and papers and pencils strewn over the floor, all the way until his back hits the opposite wall and he tucks his knees to his check and hides his twitching, scrunching face in them.

Kageyama tells him not to worry about it later, at the end of the road where Hinata rides the mountain path home. Tells him it’s not a big deal, that they’ll work on it when he’s ready, that waiting is fine.

But it isn’t fine. It isn’t fine, because _Kageyama_ is ready. Kageyama doesn’t get nervous. Kageyama doesn’t twitch and flap and squeak and _cry_ whenever they try and do anything more than kissing. Kageyama has full, total control of his own body in the way only normal, functional people do and until Hinata has that – until this all stops, the tics and the Tourette’s and the nerves – he won’t touch Kageyama like that again.  

* * *

For the next two weeks Hinata avoids Kageyama like the plague. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see him – because he does, he wants to see him more than just about anything – it’s just…well, he’s trying to fix himself first.

There’s this book his mother got from the doctor the year he was finally diagnosed and he’s never really looked in it until now. He’s never felt the _need_ to; he’s never before wanted so desperately for the tics to just _stop_ and there’s an entire chapter entitled ‘ _Strategies to help you manage your Tourette’s Syndrome’_ that just might hold the answers. 

In the time between classes that he’d usually spend with Kageyama, Hinata holes up under the back stairwell with the book on his lap and forces himself to read. It’s not a long section, a few pages at best, but it still takes up all his concentration to read through the section on arm and hand tics and by the time the bell rings, his head is throbbing.

Kageyama doesn’t seek him out. He isn’t sure whether to be annoyed or worried about that, but for the most part he’s relieved.

It’s a Saturday when Kageyama finally does collar him. They’re tired from practice, sweaty and panting and Hinata’s arms ache something vile from spikes and receives and the tics he still can’t control. He feels a little like crying, honestly, when Kageyama’s hand lands on his shoulder to hold him back, but he doesn’t have the energy in him to run and Kageyama knows it.

“You overworked yourself,” Kageyama says, accusatory and concerned all balled up in one, “stay at mine tonight.”

On the one hand, Hinata is grateful for the offer. He _is_ exhausted, after all, and he’s not entirely sure he could make it over the mountain if he tried but he’s also thinking about the book in his bag, about the jerks of his head and the blinks of his eyes and he scrunches up his nose so much he can barely even see Kageyama.

“I’m fine,” he says, stubborn, but Kageyama nudges him in the shoulder and there’s a wild, uncertain moment where Hinata doesn’t think his feet are going to move to right his balance. Kageyama catches him with a hand wrapped around his bicep and a frown to prove his point.

They argue, but in the end Hinata agrees. He doesn’t really have much of a choice; he struggles to keep his eyes open even to the end of the road and there isn’t a single protest left in him when Kageyama steers him away from the turn off and down towards his home.

Kageyama’s mother is there when they walk through the door, each uttering a quiet, “sorry for the intrusion,” while kicking off their shoes and when they step into the kitchen she’s watching them push and shove their way to the table with something like fondness in her eyes.

“Tough practice?”

They both nod, Hinata’s head bobbing around a yawn and he braces his weight against Kageyama’s side with a hum purring up the back of his throat. His head jerks, cheek smacking against Kageyama’s once, and then twice, and a third and fourth time until he has to pull himself away and let the succession of tics follow.

By the time they stop, he’s even more exhausted than he’s been in his entire life, maybe, and his eyes are stinging and there’s a lump in his throat that he gulps a few breathes around.

“Tired,” he says, once he’s gained a little control over himself, and Kageyama just nods, soothes his fingers through Hinata’s hair and exchanges a few words with his mother that Hinata doesn’t hear.

He barely remembers eating, honestly. What he does recall is the dryness of his mouth and the blandness of the taste on his tongue which can’t be right, it can’t be, because Kageyama’s mother is an excellent cook but the flavours meld into one tasteless paste between his teeth. He doesn’t remember showering, either; part of him just assumes Kageyama probably helped because he doesn’t remember washing his hair, but when he’s lying with his head against Kageyama’s pillows his hair is wet and it smells awfully like Kageyama’s shampoo.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

It doesn’t matter that his brain is shot, that his limbs are screaming for a break, he’s still twitching his arms and jumping his legs beneath the covers and his neck keeps shooting his head off to the left in dizzying intervals, and his mind is firmly stuck in the book in his bag. He never managed to read as far as head and neck tics, or vocal tics, and the reminder draws a few high squeaks through his nose. Beside him, Kageyama shuffles beneath the bed clothes. Hinata’s arm jumps out and whacks him over the back.

Morning comes with a headache. It’s the gnawing kind, drilling into the backs of his eyeballs and he tucks himself up with his forehead pressed between Kageyama’s shoulder blades and eases his jaw open to relieve the ache. It clamps shut again and his teeth grind audibly.

“Stop that.” Kageyama’s voice rumbles through his back and Hinata presses himself down the length of Kageyama’s body and wraps an arm tight over his waist.

“Can’t,” he says, and to punctuate his point his jaw shuffles forward, grates his teeth over one another. Kageyama sighs, then, and shuffles himself over to face Hinata.

“A new one?” He asks, and Hinata gives a reluctant kind of nod. The tooth-grinding introduced itself a few days ago, rudely and painfully in the middle of the night, so boisterously loud that he woke Natsu from the room next door.

Kageyama curls an arm around Hinata’s waist and drums his fingers against the small of his back. He doesn’t need to voice his concern for Hinata to know it’s there; it’s in the constipated kind of frown on his face and the fingers kneading into Hinata’s skin, and before he can stop himself Hinata is spilling his guilt into the fabric of Kageyama’s shirt.

He tells him all about the book, about the ways he’s trying to fix himself to be a better boyfriend, about the stress and the headache and the nerves and Kageyama takes it all in in silence.

When Hinata stops talking, Kageyama takes a deep, long breath and billows it out over the top of Hinata’s head.

“Idiot, Hinata,” he says – spits, almost – and his arms circle all around Hinata’s back and crush him right into his chest. He’s warm, reassuring, a hard, reliable presence even as he rains insults – idiot, dumbass, dumbass idiot Hinata – over him and Hinata breaths in the smell of his skin with the smallest of smiles tickling the corner of his mouth.

“You’re already a good boyfriend,” Kageyama says. His tongue stutters over the word boyfriend like it always does, like he’s not sure he’s fully understanding the situation and he’s scared Hinata is going to correct him. “Doesn’t matter if you’re not ready to…you know.”

“You can say _sex_ , Yamayama,” Hinata says, snickers behind his hand when Kageyama pulls back to glower down at him.

There’s a scuffle, after that, Kageyama’s fingers pinching and digging at his skin and Hinata bites back his laughter best he can but it bubbles out with squeaks and hums and Kageyama stills them both with a soft, clumsy kind of kiss.

It’s warm, pinned between Kageyama and the mattress, with the sun cracking through the curtains and spilling in long, thin beams over the bed. Somewhere down the line Hinata ends up with a tongue smoothing against his, his hands tucked beneath Kageyama’s shirt to splay over the skin of his back and one of Kageyama’s thighs nudging up between his legs. He can feel himself and Kageyama both hardening in their pants, Kageyama’s hips pressing flush to his abdomen.

His breathing is heavy, heaving up from his chest and out his mouth and it drags a few hums with it that make Kageyama’s body freeze.

“Too much?” he says, and Hinata shrugs a shoulder, jerks his head.

“Maybe? I don’t know.”

The frustration makes his jaw clench hard, bruxing his teeth until they ache and Kageyama pulls his weight up and back and settles on his heels. Hinata eyes him, from his flushed face to the peak at his crotch and his entire body flushes red and hot. The picture of Kageyama with his sweats around his thighs springs to mind and Hinata licks at his lips, remembers the flushed, shiny head and the neat thatch of hair and Kageyama’s own fist wrapped around himself.

“Can you,” he says, swallows down a squeak and pinches the bedding to keep his arms still, “can you do it yourself again?”

Kageyama gives him a wide-eyed, beat red look and gulps. He looks good, so, unbelievably good, catching his lip between his teeth and casting a wary glance to the bedroom door even as his hand reaches for his waistband.

“You’re,” he starts, brow furrowed, eyes darting all over Hinata’s face, “you’re okay with that?”

Hinata takes a minute to think on it. The nerves aren’t there, not with the same crushing squeeze as last time and the time before that; there’s a crackle of energy in his veins and it’s nervous, sure, but there’s excitement there too and Hinata nods his head and leans himself on the pillows to watch Kageyama.

He’s slow, a little unsure when he pushes his sweats back around his thighs, just low enough to expose his dick to his hand and Hinata watches him lick a long, wet stripe up his palm and curl a fist around himself.

“Okay?” Kageyama asks, and Hinata realises with a jolt he’s been humming low and steady and he forces himself to stop with heated cheeks. He nods, follows the trail of Kageyama’s hand up his shaft and down again, watches the skin slide back and _that’s_ when Kageyama thumbs himself, sweeps the pad over his head on the down stroke and stutters out a breath as he does.

Kageyama keeps his pace slow and even. His breath is steady, if a little jumpy now and then and for a while he watches himself, flicks his gaze from his hand where it’s working him to Hinata’s face and back again. Hinata watches, too, eyes glued to the way Kageyama works himself over and now and then, when Kageyama’s hand strokes down, Hinata’s hips jump up from the mattress like it’s his dick in Kageyama’s fist. He’s horribly, painfully hard in his pants and there’s something sticky and wet leaking a dark patch into his crotch.

Kageyama lets his eyes fall closed and his head sinks back, neck long and stretched and smooth and Hinata’s mouth waters at the thought of touching it, kissing and licking and biting the flesh until it’s wet and red and _his_. He whimpers – doesn’t mean to, but it’s not a tic that forces it from his throat – and Kageyama’s head pulls up to look at him. It’s only then that Kageyama notices the growing patch of pre-come on Hinata’s pants.

“You can,” he starts, hitches a breath and slows his hand until it’s barely moving, clenched around the base, “you can, too.”

Hinata swallows hard. He’d thought about it, honestly; about pulling himself out and jerking himself off, and now that he has Kageyama’s permission he braces his weight up on one elbow and cups himself through the fabric of his pants. His toes twitch, restless and excited and he lets his head fall back between his shoulders as his hips push up into his own palm.

It’s almost exciting enough like this, just touching, teasing, and Hinata stifles a moan with his teeth and grinds against his hand. Above him, Kageyama lets out a groan and Hinata feels his weight shift, feels his heat loom over him and then one of Kageyama’s hands is bracing against his thigh to tip himself forward enough to look at Hinata’s upturned face.

“Y’Look good,” is all he says, mumbles it, leans in close and nips his teeth over the line of Hinata’s jaw. They’re barely touching, connected only where Kageyama’s hand rests on his leg and where his mouth sucks at his neck but he can feel Kageyama moving, feel the rhythmic shake of his arm as he pumps himself.

Hinata plucks up the courage to push his pants out of the way when Kageyama’s fingers clench hard into the tight, tense flesh of his thigh. He does it quickly, doesn’t stop to think for a second, just pushes the fabric down and curls his fist around himself and tugs.

The back of his hand keep catching against Kageyama’s where they’re working themselves over and he licks his lips, lifts his head and snags Kageyama’s mouth in his own. He’s breathing hot, heavy air between Hinata’s teeth and Hinata drinks in the taste of him, swallows it down like water and licks his tongue at Kageyama’s lips. It’s sloppy, messy and exhilarating.

Hinata drops his weight off his elbow to curl his spare arm right around Kageyama’s neck and when he does they both tip back, sinking into Kageyama’s pillows. Kageyama’s weight settles against his chest, heart beating hard and strong in time with his and it’d be comfortable, a good level of intimate if their fists weren’t trapped between their bodies, still wrapped around themselves.

Kageyama moves his first, uncurls his fingers and steals his palm against the bed clothes. Hinata can feel him, hard and hot rubbing against his knuckles and this is maybe a little scary, maybe the kind of thing that should make him horribly, irrevocably nervous but he doesn’t start ticking; instead he takes in the smell of Kageyama, the feel of one of his fingers in his hair and the taste of his breath and it gives him the tiniest little push to move his hand, too, and twist his fist into the back of Kageyama’s shirt.

They do this weird, mutual breath that’s somewhere between a gasp and a sigh – which he isn’t even sure, it came out of him so fast – and Kageyama is tentative in pushing his hips until his dick is flush with Hinata’s.

“Okay?” He asks again and Hinata gives a watery, whimpering kind of nod and his hips rock against Kageyama’s without him telling them to.

It’s weird, the way they move together; it’s automatic, instinctive, and Hinata doesn’t really think about it at all. It’s like the shift of his mouth and the grind of his hips are new tics and there’s nothing he can do to stop them but really, honestly, even if there _was_ something he could do, he knows he wouldn’t.

Finishing is relatively uneventful. Hinata comes first, jerks out a choked kind of moan into Kageyama’s mouth and his whole body stutters to a stop while Kageyama’s hips keep sliding against him and Kageyama follows after, shuddering out a breath and burying his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck.

They clean up quietly – silently, almost – and there’s a weird kind of weight sitting in the air. Hinata feels airy, giddy, even, but Kageyama keeps shooting furtive glances towards the door and he doesn’t settle until all the evidence is hidden away.

Hinata kisses him when they’re done. He can barely hold back his smile, presses wide, curled lips to Kageyama’s but he’s beaming so much all he does is clack their teeth together and it makes him laugh right into Kageyama’s mouth.

“What’s funny?” Kageyama asks, scowling, and he tries to kiss Hinata’s laughing mouth again but all he gets is shiny white teeth while Hinata’s body shakes with giggles.

“Next time,” Hinata says, after he’s calmed himself down. “Next time, we’ll wait until your mum isn’t home.”

* * *

True to his word, they wait. It’s frustrating, almost, now that Hinata knows there’s something they can do together – something more than just kissing – that doesn’t send his tics haywire and he’s desperate to try it again, and again, and as many times as he can possibly get away with until Kageyama gets sick of him.

The opportunity finally crops up on a Thursday. They’ve already parted ways for home and Hinata is peddling his way up hill, straining his calves to push himself over the summit when his phone beeps somewhere in his back.

He’s barely given himself time to really read the message before he’s turning right back around and freewheeling his way to the turnoff, Kageyama’s message still open on the screen where it’s pressed in his palm.

_House is empty for the night, if you wanna. You know._  

He tries not to look like he’s panting when Kageyama opens the door. He’s changed since arriving home, back in sweatpants and a shirt with shoulder-cut sleeves and Hinata feels the bottom drop out of his stomach at the sight of him.

It’s Hinata that drags Kageyama to the bedroom, Hinata that pushes the door closed behind them and nudges Kageyama’s shoulders until the backs of his legs hit the bed and his body tilts down to the mattress. It’s Hinata who follows over him, clambers to straddle his hips and it’s Hinata who stops, eyes wide and staring and his teeth grinding behind his lips.

“Did you want to?” He asks, because it occurs to him there and then that he didn’t even check if that’s what Kageyama really wanted.

Kageyama answers by lunging, shifting his torso up and caging his arms around Hinata’s back to pull him down to the mattress on top of him.

Kissing quickly turns to grinding; clumsy, frantic jerks of their hips and grinding moves on to Kageyama’s hand pushed down the front of Hinata’s pants, fingers curling around him and giving a few short, tight tugs that pull the breath from his lungs. There isn’t even time for him to _get_ nervous though he does tic here and there; his arms beat out to his sides and he keeps humming, jerked out of the moment with a couple of sharp yells that make Kageyama jump where he’s lying but they aren’t egged on by nerves.

“Just a bad tic day,” he says, promises against Kageyama’s mouth and thrusts his hips into the still fist Kageyama has wrapped around him. “Please, Kageyama.”

He shakes while Kageyama jerks him, comes hard and fast on Kageyama’s fingers before he even has time to warn him it was going to happen and for a moment, he’s embarrassed, enough to drag a series of eeks from behind his barred teeth.

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, and he takes Hinata by the wrist and guides his hand to the bulge in his own pants. “Don’t overthink it.”

And Hinata doesn’t.

He lets himself be kissed, works Kageyama in his hand and keeps his mind on the moans Kageyama spills between his teeth. Kageyama doesn’t last long, either, and when Hinata slides his skin back and swipes his thumb over the head Kageyama grunts and spills between them.

Hinata’s…a little disappointed, honestly. The pent-up frustration in the weeks since they were first together meant that neither lasted long and it feels rushed, kind of; the kind of encounter he’s heard called a _quickie_ by gossiping voices behind gossiping hands in class.

“We could try something else,” Kageyama suggests, smooths his fingers back through Hinata’s hair and tips his face to peck at his lips, “if you want.”

He does want – he wants very much, and he lets Kageyama know with an enthusiastic nod. Kageyama nods once, too, cheeks flaming and his eyes cast to the drawer by his bed. Hinata follows his line of sight and back again, and he bites at his lip.

“I don’t think I’m ready yet,” he says. Kageyama frowns a question at him and Hinata’s face burns. “For like…the real thing.”

“You can say s-sex, Hinata.” It’s meant to be teasing, a throwback of Hinata’s jibe but it comes out mumbled and stuttered and Kageyama looks like he might gag around the last word and it rips an honest laugh right up from Hinata’s stomach.

Kageyama grumbles something under his breath and reaches over for the drawer. When he sits back, he’s holding a little blue push-top bottle and his whole face is full of blood. Hinata blinks, squawks, and points an accusing finger.

“Where did you get that, pervert?!”

Kageyama scoops the finger out of the air and grips it.

“Idiot Hinata,” he huffs, loud and angry and, mostly, embarrassed. “I bought it in the store like everybody else.”

“Are you even old enough?”

“Dumbass, there’s no age restriction on _lube_. I don’t think.”

Kageyama’s face scrunches up for a moment like he’s thinking on it, and then he shakes his head and points the bottle at Hinata.

“If we’re ever gonna…-“

“-you know,” Hinata supplies, and Kageyama drops his fist to the top of his snickering head.

“We need to like…prepare, and stuff.”

Hinata falls silent at that. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Kageyama wants to put something up his- _oh._

Hinata squeaks, claps a hand over his mouth. His head jerks twice, nose scrunches, and Kageyama’s face falls out of its frown and smooths itself over.

“We don’t have to,” he says, and when Hinata shakes his head again he says, “we _really_ don’t have to, not yet.”

“I want to.”

It’s not a lie, not really. He does want to – he wants to do just about anything Kageyama wants to do to him – but there’s no use in saying the thought doesn’t make him nervous.

“You can use it on me, if you want,” Kageyama says, and when Hinata looks him in the face he’s staring at the bedspread and fiddling with the label on the bottle. “I’ve tried it a few times, so it’s fine.”

For a moment it’s a tempting offer, so tempting he almost nods, but then he thinks about trying to jerk Kageyama for the first time and the awful, crippling fear of doing something so wrong he hurts him and he finds himself shaking his head and whipping his arm against his side. Kageyama swallows.

Hinata looks him in the face for a long while – too long, probably, with the way Kageyama is shuffling where he sits – and then he looks at the bottle on the bed, and he looks back at Kageyama and says,

“We’ll go slowly, yeah?”

Kageyama nods.

“Will it hurt?”

“Maybe,” he says, and he’s kissing his way across Hinata’s cheeks the minute his nose starts twitching, “but it shouldn’t, not if we’re careful.”

There’s a lot of debating after that, but they end on the decision that Hinata should lie on his back, rather than his front. Google said lying on his stomach might be easier – with his hips propped up would be even better – but all it did was make Hinata feel horrible exposed, so much so that his chest felt hot and tight and they had to stop all attempts and wait until his breathing righted itself.

“Spread your legs more,” Kageyama says, smoothing lube over his middle finger, and Hinata does as told with his shirt pulled down to cover himself.

“This is embarrassing,” he says, and Kageyama leans the little distance between them to smooth a kiss against the inside of his crooked knee.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hinata mumbles under his breath, and Kageyama gives him a look a little like withering.

“Want me to strip off, too?” He says. Hinata shakes his head – it’ll do him no good, he thinks, to spend the whole time staring at Kageyama’s dick.

“Then shut up.”

Hinata does with a huff, poking his tongue between his lips and folding his arms over his chest. His thigh jumps when Kageyama’s spare hand lands on the skin, fingers teasing meaningless circles over it.

“Ready?”

Hinata swallows, shrugs a shoulder. He’s tense all over and it’s taking an awful lot of his concentration to fight the mad urge to throw his head to the side. Kageyama’s finger – weirdly warm and slick – smooths over the skin behind his balls and he jumps, jerks and throws a yell into the quiet room. The finger moves back, pressing against the skin with a low, easy kind of pressure and when it reaches his hole, Kageyama rubs it in shallow circles. Hinata slaps his arm over his face and sucks in a couple of breaths.

“Tell me if you don’t like it, okay?”

Hinata nods, scrunches his nose and squeaks all at once. Kageyama’s left hand keeps up its drawing on his thigh and he tries to keep his mind on it, tries to find patterns in the tips of his fingers and then something hard and thin and slick is slipping _inside his body_ and Hinata clenches, yelps, jumps his leg and slams his teeth together hard enough to send a _crack_ echoing in the quiet.

“Easy,” Kageyama says. His voice is shaky and breathless but it’s soothing, too, and he keeps himself still long enough for Hinata to relax before he wriggles his finger.

“It’s weird.”

Kageyama just nods, and Hinata figures he probably knows that it’s weird, but Kageyama also said it feels good and Hinata isn’t ready to doubt him yet.

It’s when the wiggling stops and Kageyama crooks his finger up that Hinata feels something more than weirdness. He lets out a shaky, sudden, “A-ah,” and the muscles in his thighs start to quiver. Kageyama keeps his finger where it is for a moment, prods and presses and Hinata keens out pants and gasps until Kageyama releases the pressure. He slides his finger in and out instead, which goes back to just feeling kind of weird, and then he slides it all the way out and when it comes back, it’s bigger.

The stretch isn’t unpleasant but it doesn’t feel good either, and Hinata waits as patiently as he can, hands holding the hem of his shirt down to cover his half-hard dick, for Kageyama to press on that spot again.

“Tell me if it’s bad.”

Kageyama’s voice has a kind of strain to it that Hinata recognises as concern, and really, it makes him feel a whole load better to know that Kageyama is just as worried about hurting him as he was about hurting Kageyama. He nods, mumbles a quiet, “I will,” and presses the back of his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

This time, with two fingers, Kageyama moves them in and out. Once the stretch calms down it really does feel kind of good – like pressure, filling him up and spindling through his nerves and every now and then Kageyama spreads his fingers wider, opens them up like scissors and each time it makes Hinata’s back curve up off of the mattress.

He doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until Kageyama calls him out on it and when he does, Hinata sucks in a few huge lungful’s of air and rolls his hips in time with Kageyama’s fingers.

“How’s that?”

“Good,” Hinata pants. “Really good. Really really good.” He finishes his sentences with a desperate kind of cry as Kageyama spreads him more, takes care to shuffle his fingers until they’re pressing in just the right place to have Hinata’s fingers clawing at the sheets.

He comes – again – without warning, head tipped back and mouth stretched open and his whole body goes stiff, head to toe, and shakes with the intensity of it. Kageyama’s fingers don’t stop playing inside of him, milking him until he’s done dripping over his own stomach and even then he keeps teasing, massaging until Hinata’s body twitches, spent and aching and more satisfied than he’s ever been in his entire life.

“I did it,” he says when he comes back from the bathroom. Kageyama is making the bed but he turns to look at him with his brows raised. “I did it, something new and I didn’t freak out. Barely any tics, Kageyama!”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile or laugh or even look at him with anything like fondness. Instead, his cheeks dust pink, and he takes three great long strides across the room, cups Hinata’s jaw in his hands, and kisses him square on the lips.

* * *

“Ka- _ah_ -ageyama.”

Hinata moans into the bedspread and grinds his hips down onto the pillows propped beneath him. They have the house to themselves – again – and Hinata has decided that today, they’re gonna do it. Today is the day.

Which is why he has three of Kageyama’s well-lubricated fingers in his ass and a mouthful of duvet sticking to his dry lips.

His tics, despite his nerves, have been behaving relatively well. He’s only squeaked once or twice and he keeps blinking a little harder than he should, but his arms and legs are behaving about as well as they know how and it’s a little easier to keep his mind off of it with Kageyama rolling his fingers against that spot inside him that sets fire whizzing up his spine.

“That good?” Kageyama asks. Hinata can’t see him, but he can hear the smirk in his tone and honestly, he’s a little disappointed that he doesn’t have the energy to glance over his shoulder because Kageyama _smiling_ is a rarity, even for Hinata.

“Mhm,” he says, shifts some of his weight to his knees to push himself back onto Kageyama’s fingers.

Kageyama’s lips tease feather-left over the backs of his thighs and across the flushed flesh of his ass until they’re nipping at the skin right above the place his fingers are buried. A little part of Hinata wants to protest but the thing is it always looks really _good_ , you know? In the videos. The guys always look like they’re enjoying it and Hinata can’t say he’s not a little curious to know what it feels like to have Kageyama’s mouth on him.

He levers his hips back with a panting kind of whine and Kageyama slips his fingers out slowly, carefully, and wraps his warm, wet hand around one of Hinata’s thighs. The other hand comes up to his ass, fingers splaying over one cheek and pulling him open enough to get his mouth where Hinata wants it and Hinata’s thighs shake beneath Kageyama’s fingers as his tongue laps over him.

The noise he makes doesn’t sound human. It certainly isn’t a word, not one that he’s heard in any language, just a kind of stunted throb from low in his throat, blocked by his tongue at the back of his teeth and he lets his mouth fall open to pant out his breaths when Kageyama starts working him.

It’s clumsy, no doubt; Kageyama doesn’t have a much better idea of what he’s doing than Hinata does, but it doesn’t matter all that much when it feels like _this_.

“I’m ready,” Hinata says, presses his hips back against Kageyama’s face. “I’m ready, Kageyama, please.”

Kageyama pulls away with a gross, wet, smacking kind of sound and he kisses his way up Hinata’s back all the way to his ear.

“You sure?” He slides two fingers back into him and spreads them and it burns, honestly, but Hinata is calm and confident and eager and he’s not even _ticking_ , and he urges Kageyama to roll on a condom with a great long string of pleas and begs.

“Front or back?”

Hinata rolls off his knees and sits on the mattress. The pillows are shoved to the top of the bed and the duvet is kicked aside, out of the way, and Hinata lies back with his legs open and his fingers grabbing at Kageyama’s hips.

“Sure?” Kageyama asks again. Hinata nods, frantic, rolls his hips and pulls Kageyama closer. He just…wants to do it, wants to do it while he has some semblance of control over himself and Kageyama is rock hard anyway. There’s no real reason to wait any longer.

That’s…well, that’s what he thinks.

Kageyama arranges Hinata’s legs out and up, opening him as much as possible and with one final look in Hinata’s eyes, he presses the tip to him and pushes through.

It _hurts_. It’s not unbearable, but it’s also not even in the least bit pleasant and the minute Kageyama sinks in a little way a burning kind of pain flares and Hinata’s chest squeezes in tight. Kageyama must notice because he stills, holds his hips steady and peppers kisses over Hinata’s cheeks.

And then the tics start.

They come slow. The urge to scrunch his nose crops up first, and the itch under his skin that sets him blinking too hard for too long. He works to hold them back, to keep his voice and his limbs in check, so hard that he’s digging his nails into Kageyama’s shoulders and squeezing Kageyama’s hips with his legs. He’s barely even _breathing_ , just shaking and pulling hollow air through his nose.

“Hinata,” Kageyama says, braces his weight on one elbow to card the other hand through Hinata’s hair.

Hinata’s head jerks, shoots to the side until his cheek meets the pillow and then again, and again, and again again again, pain splintering down the sides of his neck. The muscles in his limbs are _screaming_ , aching, and his head is full, so full and heavy and messy that he can barely hear the way Kageyama is pressing his name into his cheek.

By the time the tics wind down, Kageyama is beside him rather than over him. He’s got one hand stroking the top of his head, smoothing out his head while the other is drawing patterns that feel like letters across the skin of his chest. Hinata feels worn and beaten, tired beyond measure and he feels a little like crying, too.

He _ruined_ it. Again.

Always him, it’s always him ruining everything for them. Him and his stupid, stupid tics. His jaw aches, teeth feel wobbly and sensitive where he’s rubbing them together and there’s the nasty, metallic tang of blood on his tongue and a sting in his cheek that tells him he’s bitten himself in the process.

He rolls into Kageyama’s side without a word, presses his face into the warm, bare skin of his shoulder and lets a few tears leak out. He’s mumbling his sorry’s with a mouth too full of saliva and some of it dribbles against Kageyama’s skin and he’s rocking, too, swaying his body and sniffling and he’s still shaking all over and Kageyama grabs the discarded duvet and pulls it right the way over them.

Buried in darkness with nobody but Kageyama to see him, he cries. Really, honestly cries.

He thinks he maybe falls asleep, just for a little while. When he wakes up the panic has gone and the desperate, cloying failure isn’t weighing too heavily on his chest and Kageyama is still with him, naked body curled up against his in the warmth beneath the duvet. 

“I want to try again.”

Kageyama does a good job at trying to talk him out of it. He reassures him that they can wait, that it’s not important but Hinata knows that it is; it’s the most important thing in the whole world, maybe, that he doesn’t let his nerves and his panic and his Tourette’s get the best of him.

And so they do.

Kageyama stretches him some more, plays him with long, thin fingers and too much lubricant and he softens him with his tongue, too, and when they finally come to do it – to really, actually do it – Kageyama sinks in with almost no pain at all.

“Alright?” Kageyama’s voice is low and breathy and very _not_ Kageyama and it sinks right down to Hinata’s bones, sets an ache in his chest that is one of the most pleasant feelings he’s ever had in his whole life.

They move slow; for a while they try kissing at the same time but it’s too much effort, takes too much thinking to draw breaths and they settle with their foreheads pressed so tight together it’s almost painful.

They finish like that, too. Kageyama first, with his hips pressed flush to Hinata’s and his mouth open, lips grazing the skin of Hinata’s cheek and Hinata comes a little later on Kageyama’s fingers, two crooking to stroke inside of him while Kageyama’s other hand works over his cock. 

They shower together. Hinata tries to wash Kageyama’s hair, all romantic like he’s seen in the movies but all he does is smear soap suds in his eyes and let Kageyama run face first into the shower door with a cackle in his throat when he lunges for him with his eyes squeezed closed.

It’s dark out – full dark, with a big moon and a smattering of stars spreading out over the city – by the time they crawl back into bed. Kageyama pulls the duvet right over them again, all the way over the tops of their heads, so far up that his feet poke out at the end and Hinata presses himself against the length of him and kisses the corner of his mouth and wrapped in the sheets, just like that, they sleep. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I mean I hope it was satisfying enough - a lot of the tags are smut based and the actual smut isn't THAT graphic but I just...wanted to focus more on the Tourette's aspect and the ways they work through it idk IDK I'm fuckin' trash. But here u go and I hope you guys enjoy it!! Also reminder: the original fic that inspired this is called Twitch and it is really fucking good like. 
> 
> Also thank u in advance for any likes/comments/bookmarks and whatever else!! I'd really really like to write more stuff for this AU because it's just...really really good and nice and I am very very here for it and, like always, feel free to follow me on tumblr @ someone-stole-my-shoes if you wanna talk more about the fic/my other fics/kagehina and haikyuu in general god bless


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